


Summer Nights

by StarshipDancer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 4-h camp mechanics, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Camp AU, F/F, F/M, M/M, Ruby is a bitch, Summer Camp, chuck is terrified of his campers, dick roman's name is everywhere, please don't ask about age differences, poor chuck isn't cut out for this, there will be canoe sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-05 03:27:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5359397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarshipDancer/pseuds/StarshipDancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With their younger brother stuck in Hell for the summer, Sam and Dean can't go with their parents on vacation to the beach.  Instead, they're stuck going with Bobby to some summer camp with tribes and mechanics that neither of them know or understand.  The two brothers end up with far more than they bargained for, especially when the chief of a rival tribe approaches Sam with a sweet deal, and it's a deal he just can't help but make.  See notes inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This idea was born from watching Ernest Goes to Camp and seeing a very young Richard Speight Jr. in some delicious shorts. Due to needing to keep the "campers" 21 or under (and to keep this legal, after all), age differences a bit wibbly wobbly. Sam is a little closer to Dean's age because of this, and the same goes for Cas being closer to Gabe's age. Some "campers" ages, such as Abaddon and Balthazar, have also been adjusted to fit the 'Verse.  
> The camp mechanics I used are slightly based off of the 4-H group, such as tribes, tribal circle, meetings, etc., though I have changed some details so that I could extend the duration of the camp. Any details and characters belong to their respective owners. This AU is purely for entertainment purposes.

            “I can’t believe this!”  Dean Winchester still grumbled from the front seat, grumpy green gaze glaring out the window.  The view had long ago changed from the familiarity of Bobby’s salvage yard to new greenery neither of the boys were used to or prepared for.  Mostly Dean.  He was not happy with the most recent development.  “Are you kidding me, Bobby?  _Summer camp_?  I might as well be stuck in Hell with Adam!”

            “Don’t take that tone of voice with _me_ , boy!”  Bobby Singer ground out, having had enough of Dean’s constant complaining since they’d left.  “It’s not my fault yer mom and dad went on vacation and left you two idjits with me.  I promised Ellen I’d help out this summer, so you’ll just have to shut yer piehole and deal with it.  We’re almost there.”

            Sam listened to his older brother complain some more, lazily watching the trees as they buzzed past.  He spotted a sign that read, “DICK ROMAN SUMMER CAMPGROUND” with an arrow indicating they were on the right track.  Bobby followed the paved road up a hill, winding through rows and rows of trees and streams until the camp started to come into view.  Sam swallowed, his stomach in knots.  He was being a little bit more open-minded about spending ninety days in a cabin, but that didn’t make him particularly happy about it. 

            Bobby followed the road until it ended at a parking lot just in front of the “Dick Roman Community Lake” sign, the lake itself spanning out behind it.  A few other cars had been parked beside them, but the trio was still relatively early to the campground.  Dean rolled his eyes and turned to look at Sam, his eyebrows raised, and nodded to the sign glaring at them.  “It takes a very secure man to plaster a name like that all over the place.  Let me guess, there’s a ‘Dick Roman Dining Hall’ and a ‘Dick Roman Ladies Bathroom?’”

            Sam chuckled, but one glare from Bobby had him pursing his lips and trying not to encourage his brother.  Not that Dean needed encouraging at all; now that school had let out for the summer, his filter, if anyone could call it that, had lifted, and not even summer camp would deter the eldest Winchester from having some fun.   Grinning discreetly, Sam got out of the car and glanced around at the big campground, eyes roaming over the two hills littered with brown cabins. The scent of freshly mowed grass and lake water filled his nostrils, and he cringed momentarily before he got used to it.

            The second he got out, Dean noticed it as well, his nose scrunched up in disgust. “What the hell is that smell?”

            “ _Fresh air_ ,” Bobby retorted and rolled his eyes as he walked around to the trunk.

            “I was afraid of that.”  Dean shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket moodily.  He watched Bobby open the trunk and start to sift through the bags, eyes widening for a minute.  “We have to unload already?  We just got here!  Shouldn’t we go check in or something?  Sammy here forgets what cabin he’s in.”

            “Lucky for you, then, he’s with you.  Cabin Six, right there on the hill.  Get yer shit and get settled, then head over to the mess hall for yer nametags and schedules.”  Bobby tossed Dean’s bags to him and pointed to one of the three cabins on the hill. 

            “ _Nametags_?!  You’ve got to be kidding me…”  Slinging one bag over his shoulder, he started to trudge up the hill to the last three cabins.  “Hurry it up, Sammy!”

            “Is he going to be like this all summer?”  Bobby muttered as he passed Sam’s bags to him, and the younger Winchester shrugged his shoulders.

            “If we’re lucky, he’ll find some girl to hit on.  That should lift his spirits.”

            “That brother of yours had better not screw the entire camp…”

            Chuckling, Sam followed Dean up the slope, still looking around.  To the left of their cabins, he saw a path lead up to a great circle of stone rocks around what looked like a bonfire spot.  He remembered Bobby mentioning something about “tribal circle” every night and wondered if that was where it was held.   He sped up to join his brother, who he heard muttering to himself again.

            “Smells like nature out here,” Dean grumbled disdainfully.  “Why couldn’t Mom and Dad take us on vacation too? We should be spread out on a beach putting suntan lotion on hot chicks right about now!”

            “It wouldn’t be fair if we went and Adam couldn’t,” Sam reminded calmly for the tenth time since Mary and John Winchester had departed for their getaway by the beach.  They deserved some alone time, anyways.  “Besides, this is better than where Adam’s stuck for the summer.  Stop being so grumpy.”

            “Guess you’re right,” Dean reluctantly agreed with a huff.  “I’d rather be stuck here than in Hell.  Cabin Six, here we are.”  They stopped in front of the rugged cabin, and Sam could smelled the fresh paint.  Dean opened the screen door, which screamed in protest, and winced, glaring over his shoulder to give Sam a completely dead look.  Sam only grinned and followed his brother in, examining the cabin as they went.  In the main room, they saw one bed, and two doorways led to sets of bunk beds.  Graffiti covered the walls, most of it some version of “this idiot was here.” 

            “Great,” Dean hissed, less than impressed.  “Real five star camp we’ve found ourselves at.”

            “It’s not that bad, Dean,” Sam began to argue when a head wearing a bright orange cap poked out of the right wing.  The boy was young, probably about Sam’s age, with startling blue eyes and an adorable face that probably belonged on a poster.  Upon further examination, Sam realized the cap had the word _Cherokee_ stitched into it surrounded by white moons and little stars.  He beamed at them, instantly crossing the room and holding out his hand, far too excited for his own good.

            “You must be our cabin mates!” he greeted, shaking Sam’s hand and waiting for Dean to hold his out, which he didn’t. 

            “I’m Sam Winchester, and this is my brother, Dean.”

            “I’m Samandriel Milton.”  He still had his hand extended to Dean, as if the longer he held it out the more likely Dean would be to shake it.

            “You’re name’s what?” Dean raised an eyebrow and shared a look with Sam.  He pointed to a block of wood dangling around his neck from an orange chord. “Why does your nametag say Alfie?”

            Deflating at last, the boy lowered his hand and shrugged dejectedly.  “It’s a family nickname.  Alfie is a bit easier to remember than Samandriel, so that’s what everyone calls me.”

            “Tough break.”  With a roll of his eyes, Dean grabbed the kid’s hand and shook it vigorously, which perked Samandriel up immediately. 

            “I don’t mind!” he insisted, pleased to finally have greeted them both, and then ushered them further into the cabin to meet the other boy hiding on his bunk.  He stared up at the brothers with tired eyes, and Sam got the feeling that this one didn’t want to be there anymore than they did.  “This is Kevin Tran!  The four of us have the cabin to ourselves, aside from Mr. Singer as our counselor.  Kevin, this is Sam and Dean.  They’re brothers.”

            Kevin didn’t bother asking to shake hands.  He merely offered a tiny smile and a small wave.  “I heard, Alfie.  Nice to meet you guys.  Is this your first year?”

            “Yeah, Bobby is kind of our uncle.  He was helping out this year, so he brought us along, too,” Sam explained, letting one of his bags drop down to the ground.

            “Since there’s only four of us and four sets of bunk beds, the two of you are welcome to have the other side of the cabin to yourself,” Kevin offered helpfully, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief.  He’d been worried he might get stuck with a top bunk and wasn’t sure if his long legs would hang over the edge or not.

            The boys traveled to the other side of the cabin, Samandriel following them and jabbering on enthusiastically.  Dean gave Sam a look of distress, but Sam liked the kid and his infectious excitement.  Dean tossed his bags onto the right bunk, leaving the left for Sam to get comfortable on.  He set his bag down, frowning at the twin-sized bed.  He’d just have to accept that he’d be sleeping scrunched up for a month and a half. 

            “So do you guys know what tribes you’re in?” Samandriel asked, needing a breath at last.

            “Tribes?”  Dean remembered something about tribes, but he didn’t care enough to commit his to memory. 

            “I’m in Seneca,” Sam recalled with a nod to himself.  Unlike his brother, he’d actually _read_ the paperwork Bobby had handed them on the drive there.  “Dean’s a…Mingo, I think?”

            “What the hell are these tribes about?” Dean rounded and put the pressure on Samandriel, but the blue-eyed boy didn’t notice at all.

            “Oh, you’ll hear more about it once the Big Feet call us for Greetings.  It’s your first time, so it’s probably better for them to explain it than me,” Samandriel insisted solemnly, as though he was not worthy enough to be speaking on such a sacred topic.

            Kevin leaned against the doorframe, shaking his head a little at their animated cabin mate.  “The tribes are like Hogwarts Houses, except they’re completely random and don’t make much sense.  There are five: the Mingo Red Bears, the Cherokee Orange Moon and Stars,”—Samandriel beamed proudly and indicated to his hat—“the Delaware Blackbirds, the Seneca Green Turtles, and the Purple Big Feet.  All the adults are the Big Feet.  Each tribe has a chief and sag that run the show.”  He sighed, the source of his apparent stress finally coming to light.  “I’m the Mingo sag.”

            “I’m the Cherokee sag!” Samandriel chimed.  “We’re going to win the competition this year!”

            “Probably,” Kevin agreed listlessly with a sigh.  “At least you know your chief.  I have no idea who the Mingo chief is, since Michael didn’t sign up.  I hope it’s not Abaddon.  She scares me.”

            Samandriel cringed sympathetically.  “She’s shoe-in for chief this year, though.”

            “Yeah.  That’s what I’m afraid of.”

            As Kevin and Samandriel dissolved into talk about their tribes, Sam and Dean started unpacking.  Dean, if anything, looked like he wanted to blow his brains out, but Sam wasn’t as discouraged.  Hearing about the different tribes and the mention of a competition had caught his interests.  The camp might be more challenging than he’d originally thought.

            Finished unpacking what he wanted, Sam stood up and glanced at Dean.  “I’m going to go to the mess hall like Bobby said.  You coming?”

            “I’ll catch up in a minute.”  Dean had stretched out on his bed, testing it, and frowned at the mediocre comfort the overused mattress provided.  “Wonder if the top bunk has a better mattress…?”

            Sam grinned and left before he could catch his brother in the act of switching the mattresses.  He followed the slope back to the road that passed through the camp, figuring it would lead him to the dining hall.  Over the next hill, he spotted four more brown cabins just like his, two larger buildings that he guessed were the bathrooms, and another that looked like some sort of recreation hall on the far side of the camp.  A few other campers were scattered about, but cars were still pulling in and forced him to walk in the grass for most of his trek. 

            He had been right in his theory that he would find the dining hall, which Dean would be happy to see bore the words “DICK ROMAN DINING HALL” above the door.  A pathway of different stones led up to the brown building, from which he could hear an array of voices.  He thought he heard Bobby’s gruff tones and smiled to himself, picking up pace as he jogged up the steps.  He hadn’t been paying attention and bumped into a boy just leaving the mess hall.

            “Watch it there, Sasquatch!  You’re gonna run a guy over at that speed.”  Sam paused apologetically, but something about this guy stopped him completely, particularly his eyes, which he decided reminded him of honey.  They gleamed at him with mischief, glee, and a sense of slight superiority.  An orange headband with _Cherokee_ painted in white held back his swirls of hair, and Sam wondered if that made him the Chief that Samandriel had been talking about.  Before he could stop himself, his eyes trailed down to the tight orange shorts he wore.  Unnecessarily tight, Sam would have thought any other time, but he couldn’t help appreciating the view of his strong legs and—swallowing, he shot his gaze back up to the guy’s face, surprised to find him smirking deviously around a lollipop dangling from his mouth.

            “Like what you see?”

            “Uh-sorry.  For bumping into you,” Sam stuttered hurriedly, about to run back up the stairs and die of shame.

            “But not for shamelessly checking me out?  I like you.”  He tilted his head curiously, butterscotch eyes dropping to roam over Sam once.  Then again, for good measure.  “You’re new here, aren’t you?  I’ve been going to this camp since I was in diapers.  I think I’d remember somebody as tall as you.”

            “Yeah.  First year.”  Sam wanted to _escape,_ try to hide form his embarrassment, but the guy just kept talking.  The Winchester decided he like his smooth voice, the way his tongue worked around the lollipop to keep it in his mouth while he spoke. 

            “Well, since you were so rude and bumped into me, I think it’s only fair that you introduce yourself.”  He pulled the sucker out of his mouth with a loud pop, drawing Sam’s attention to his lips, and he had to force himself to look back up at his eyes before he could answer, not trusting his own voice.

            “Sam.  Sam Winchester.”

            “Quite a mouthful! You can call me Gabriel.”  He held out his hand, more flirty than friendly.  Sam almost didn’t want to shake his hand; something about that smirk kept him rooted to the spot, and Gabriel’s eyes only sparkled at knowing he had such an effect on him.

            Luckily (or unluckily, Sam couldn’t decide which), Dean chose that moment to catch up, drawing Sam back to earth.  “Nah, all of those beds are uncomfortable.  If there’s no pie, nothing can redeem this hellhole.”  He glanced at Gabriel, scoffing in amusement at the sight of him.  “Nice shorts.”

            “Better than all the layers you’re wearing,” Gabriel countered immediately, waving his hand in front of his scrunched up nose.  _Adorable_ , Sam couldn’t help but think.  “I could smell you coming up the road.”

            Dean narrowed his eyes, jaw tightening angrily.  Sam grabbed him by the shoulder and hissed his name before he could slug the Cherokee Chief.  That got Gabriel’s attention; his eyes lit up, and he tossed the sucker back into his mouth in glee. 

            “ _Dean_?  As in, _Dean Winchester_ , the Mingo Chief?  Oh, this is going to be fun!  Here, I was worried Abaddon might be a challenge to beat this year, but it’s you?  You’re a newbie!  You don’t know the first thing about this camp!  I’m a shoe-in to win now!”  Gabriel laughed, delightfully clapping his hands at this new addition of information.

            “Chief?”  Dean shared a confused look with Sam, who only shrugged.  “What the hell do you mean, _chief_?”

            “I mean, I looked at the names of the other chiefs while I was in there, and you were listed as chief of the Mingo tribe.  I was a little worried you might pose a threat, but now I know I have nothing to worry about!”  Gabriel giggled and crossed his arms, beaming.  Dean may have been taller than him, but he sure as hell wasn’t intimidated.

            “Think again,” Dean nearly growled, stepping closer threateningly.  Gabriel only smirked and tilt his head, entertained.  “I look forward to wiping that smirk off your face when _my tribe_ wins whatever the hell you’re talking about.”

            “Please,” Gabriel scoffed.  “You don’t know the first thing about this camp, chuckles.  I’m going to pound your team into the ground.  Maybe that won’t be the only thing I pound, either.” His eyes flickered to Sam, eyebrows wiggling, and Sam felt a burn start to creep along his neck.  Dean, on the other hand, missed the innuendo, and his pointed his finger hostilely at Gabriel, who rolled his eyes and went back to grinning as he sucked on the lollipop.

            Whatever Dean had been about to say was cut short by a deep, serious voice.  “Gabriel, you forgot your schedule in the mess hall.  As chief, you need to know what is going on at all times.”  A boy with dark hair and stormy blue eyes jogged down the steps, extending a paper booklet to Gabriel, who only looked annoyed at this most recent arrival.

            “Great timing,” he muttered sarcastically snatching the schedule away and frowning down at it.  He absently waved his hand at the two brothers in lazy introduction.  “Bro, meet Thing One and Thing Two.”

            “I do not think those are their names,” said the other boy slowly, thoughtfully observing both of them.  After a moment of decision, he extended his hand to Sam first, who accepted politely.  “I am Castiel.”

            “Sam.  This is my brother, Dean.”  He was grateful for the distraction away from Gabriel, but he glanced at him anyways, finding him poutily examining the booklet. 

            “Dean?  As in, Dean Winchester?”  Castiel shook Dean’s hand with a grand smile on his face.  “You are the Mingo chief, are you not?”

            “A-apparently,” Dean mindlessly murmured as he let Castiel shake his hand repeatedly.

            “I am in your tribe,” Castiel continued, completely oblivious to what he was doing to Dean as he kept shaking his hand.  “I look forward to getting to know you better.  Do not listen to Gabriel.  I am certain you will be a satisfactory chief and lead us to victory.”

            Dean laughed, nervous, and Sam was shocked to see he didn’t know what to say.  Usually, only big boobs and a skimpy skirt could render Dean Winchester speechless, but this boy had done it with a simple smile and a handshake.  Gabriel noticed as well, furrowing his brow as he reached forward to pull Castiel’s hand away from Dean’s.

            “Don’t shake his arm off, Cas,” he teased lightly, his knowing grin back in place.  Dean quickly shoved his hands in his pockets, and Castiel smiled sheepishly.

            “I’ll see you around,” he said, slipping between Gabriel and Dean, and Sam wondered if his brother was going to faint when Cas’ shoulder brushed his.  Dean turned to watch him leave, his mouth opening and closing while he tried to work through what had just happened.

            “Careful eyeing him like that,” Gabriel warned lightly, drawing their attention again.  He rolled the sucker around in his mouth for a minute before slipping it to point the red candy at the retreating Cas.  “That’s my little bro you’re making eyes at, Dean-o.”

            Dean narrowed his eyes, shook his finger again, and continued up the steps, muttering vehemently to himself.  Sam couldn’t suppress the chuckle that left him as he watched his unhinged brother, nearly missing the way Gabriel’s eyes lit up at the sound.  Head tilted again, Gabriel smiled crookedly at him and reached into his pocket, producing another lollipop that he extended to Sam. 

            “Here, a peace offering.”  He wiggled it some when Sam hesitated, only grinning more when the taller boy finally accepted.  “Catch you around, Samsquatch.”  With a suggestive wag of his eyebrows, he skipped the rest of the way down the steps, leaving Sam with a slight blush and a warm lollipop.  He couldn’t help but turn to watch the orange-clad chief head down the road after his younger brother.

            “Sam!  Sam!”  He could hear Dean’s voice, but something kept him from turning away just yet, even if Gabriel was just an orange speck in his line of sight.  Next thing he knew, a slim body collided with his in a tight hug, knocking the wind right out of him, and he recognized the giggle immediately.

            “Charlie?!”  He turned to hug her back, grinning down at her beaming face.  Her brilliant red hair was pulled back into a ponytail, any loose tendrils kept in check by the green headband she wore bearing the word _Seneca_.  She wore a white shirt hand-painted with green turtles of various sizes and shapes and green shorts, although not as skimpy or tight as Gabriel’s had been.

            “Tried to warn you,” Dean scolded as he joined them in the middle of the steps, his hands back in his pockets.  Sweat had started to bead on Dean’s brow, and Sam was more than sure that the jacket would soon be ditched.

            “Why didn’t you guys tell me you were going to be here this summer?” she accused, stepping back to cross her arms.  They’d known Charlie since they were kids; she lived just down the road from the Winchesters, and they spent most of their childhood playing hunters.  She was like the little sister they never had (and Dean swore he didn’t want). 

            “We weren’t expecting to see _you_ here, either” he explained with a slight shrug and a breathless smile. 

            “Well, yeah, this is the camp I go to every year that I’ve been telling you about for, like… years.  You two can really be dense when you want to be.”  Her hands on her hips, she grinned at them and proudly raised her chin.  “Now, show some respect for the Chief of the Seneca tribe.”

            “Really?  I’m in Seneca!”

            “Shiny!  With our brains combined, we are _so_ gonna win the competition! What about you, Dean?”

            “Apparently, I’m the Chief of the—what were they?—Mangos?”  He shrugged and rolled his eyes, entirely missing the importance of his title.  Charlie’s smile faded a little, and her brow furrowed, a small laugh on her lips at the absurdity of the idea.

            “No, Michael’s supposed to be Mingo chief this year.”

            Sam shrugged.  “One of the guys we bunk with thought it was, um…Abaddon?”

            “ _Oh_ , no.  No way would the Big Feet _ever_ make Abaddon chief.  She’s too power hungry.  It’s supposed to be Michael Novak this year; he was last year’s sag, after all.  Let’s go clear this up.”  She turned passionately, her arm hooked in Dean’s, and started to drag him toward the mess hall.  With a shake of his head, Sam kept up behind them, following the duo up to the stone porch, the chipped paint only still speckling the spots where campers were less likely to tread. 

            The screen door opened before Charlie could reach for it, and out breezed an attractive brunette that Dean and Charlie both turned to watch sway down the steps.  She glanced over her shoulder, smirking at them, and added more sass to her step.  Sam watched them watch her, trying to keep his snickers in, but his face betrayed him instantly.  Swallowing, Dean turned to Charlie and raised an eyebrow, who meekly smiled.

            “Bela Talbot,” she explained, her voice having gone up an octave, as she dragged the oldest Winchester through the door, Sam in tow behind them.  “Seneca.  Don’t let her good looks fool you; she’s devious.  And hot.  And snarky.  And hot.  And a complete heartless bitch.  Did I mention hot?”

            “Once or twice,” Dean allowed, glancing back over his shoulder.  “I’m going straight to hell.”

            “I’ll be right there with you,” commented a tall blond as he strained in his seat for a parting glimpse of Bela.  He sat at one of the twelve tables lining the majority of the big hall; Sam honestly hadn’t expected so much room.  Straight ahead, he saw two doorways leading to the kitchen; just outside the openings, the food bar stretched to the right before curving sharply toward the front door.  A grand fireplace rested against the wall to the very right, but Sam got the feeling that nobody ever used it; instead, the stone pit had been stacked with boxes overflowing with variously sized balls and supplies, and bows leaned up against the exterior, some of the arrows spilling out of the quivers stacked around. 

            “Charlie, _mon cher_ , who are your new friends?”  The blond radiated with a roguish exterior, a thin layer of snark veiling every tone he lilted.  He casually took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, which made her giggle. 

            “Hey, Balthazar.  This is Sam and Dean Winchester.  You have their stuff here?”  Charlie nodded to the table behind Balthazar, which was scattered with papers and blocks of wood, each looped with the colors of the tribes. 

            “Winchester?  Let me see…”  With a groan, he stood up and started examining the mess, muttering to himself as he searched.  “Ah, here we go.  Sam Winchester.”  He handed one of the wooden nametags on a green chord to Sam, along with a camp schedule.  Sam put the chord over his neck and was about to open the schedule when Dean gave him a pointed look.

            “Dude, don’t read the schedule.”

            “What?  I like to know what’s going on.”

            “Just don’t, man.  You reach that level of nerd, and I’ll have to pretend I don’t know you.”

            Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes.  “Jerk.”

            “Bitch.”  The shit-eating grin fell off Dean’s face as soon as Balthazar shoved a nametag, a schedule, and a red headband into his arms.  “Wait.  What’s with the headband?”

            “Congratulations, you’re Chief of the Mingos.  Forgive me for not jumping for joy, would you?”  Balthazar lazily settled back down in his chair, a yawn on his lips.

            “It’s true?!”  Charlie crossed her arms, looking more than a little put off.  “I thought Michael was supposed to be chief this year?”

            “My dear older brother landed himself in Hell over the summer, so he couldn’t make it.  Same goes for Luci.  He won’t be making it this year, either,” Balthazar explained with wag of his eyebrows.

            “You have a brother named _Luci_?” Dean snickered.

            Balthazar crossed his arms, enjoying himself.  “It’s short for _Lucifer_.  It’s much easier to explain that your brother is named after a sitcom instead of, well.  Satan.”

            “Damn!”  Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam, who shrugged noncommittally in response.  “Lucifer?  Balthazar?  Your parents must’ve hated you!”

            “Ladies like an exotic name,” Balthazar quipped, his jaw tightening as his blue eyes twinkled with controlled irritation.  “Michael and Gabriel did get off easy, though.”

            At the sound of the name, Sam shifted, pretending not to be too interested.  He couldn’t resist the urge to learn more about the short-clad Cherokee, however, and his mouth was moving before he’d realized it.  “Gabriel?  He and Castiel are your bothers, too?”

            “Big family,” Dean mumbled with a shake of his head.

            “The youngest, yes.  And the biggest pains in the ass you could ever imagine,” Balthazar drawled, stretching long legs out and yawning.  “Especially Gabriel.  That one certainly has a rather large ego.”

            “And short shorts,” Sam mumbled sullenly, remembering.

            “What?”

            “Uh, nothing.”

            “So, wait,” Charlie interrupted thoughtfully, her brow furrowed.  “If Luci isn’t here either, then who’s the Chief of the Delaware tribe?  Not that I’m complaining, you know.  Gabe’s enough to deal with, let alone Michael and Luci along with him.  This evens the playing field.”  She suddenly paused, her eyes wide, and gave Balthazar a once-over.  “It’s not you, is it?”

            He sighed dramatically.  “Unfortunately not, _mon cher_.  The Big Feet didn’t appear to think that allowing me to be chief was in anyone’s best interests.  Something about ‘not being invested enough in camp activities.’ Instead, they chose _Ruby_.”  He spat the name with something akin to pure disgust.  Even Charlie scrunched up her nose, her lips pursed. 

            “Not that awful demonic bitch!  Okay.  You know what?  It’s no problem.  No _way_ will she and her sag get along well enough to even be considered competition.  Delewares are going down.  Er, no offense, Bal.”

            He grinned up at her and leaned forward in his seat conspiratorially, lowering his voice as he did.  “None taken.  In fact, ma douce, count on _me_ to be your little spy.  I want to see Ruby and Meg fail just as much as you do.  I’ll keep both you and your clueless friend here posted on what Ruby’s planning—as long as you keep my name out of it.  I don’t mind playing every side; I’d just rather nobody knew about it.”

            “Are you gonna share with the Cherries, too?” Dean asked, an eyebrow raised.

            “ _Cher-O-Kee_ ,” Charlie corrected, at a loss. “Why did they let you be chief again?”

            “Because Abaddon is a power-hungry maniac, and there’s no way Kevin could do it on his own?” Balthazar suggested with a smirk and a wink.  “As for your question, I do plan to share with Gabriel.  For a price, of course.  Can’t be expected to be nice to everyone, now can I?  Especially not my brother.  I think I’ll be fine as long as he doesn’t send Samandriel to torture it out of me.”

            “Alfie?” Sam raised his eyebrows, and Dean snickered, adding, “I don’t see camp’s most adorable attendee torturing anything out of anyone.”

            Charlie gave the two boys serious glares.  “His puppy dog eyes could win over Darth Vader and Voldemort _at the same time_.  Don’t underestimate him.  He’s ruthless.”

            “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Dean allowed, still a nonbeliever.  He put on the headband unenthusiastically, and Sam had to struggle to hide his chuckles at the way Dean really stuck out like a sore thumb.  He looked nothing like the other chiefs but appeared to be trying to take this as seriously as he could when he hooked his arm with Charlie’s and suggested, “So, fellow chief, how about giving us a tour of camp? I can’t wait to see the _Dick Roman Community Stump_.”

            “What about the _Dick Roman Community Rock Formation_?”  Charlie teased, laughing.  She lifted her hand to Balthazar in the classic sign of Spock, who nodded and raised two fingers in farewell as they made their way back outside.  They still had a couple hours to wait, so they might as well make the most out of their time and learn what they could.  All the while, Sam tried not to think of the sucker weighing down his pocket and the grinning Cherokee who given it to him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day one continues! Thanks for reading, sorry this took so long, and I hope you enjoy!

            By the time five o’clock came around, Charlie had shown Sam and Dean around the entire campground.  They’d seen everything, from the _Dick Roman Recreation Room_ to the _Dick Roman Ladies Bathroom_ , which gave Dean far more pleasure than should have been allowed.  He was not pleased, however, to find that the men’s bathroom had a similar sign.

            “I do _not_ want to shit in a building with the name _Dick_ plastered all over it,” he had grumbled, glaring up at the sign with unfathomable hatred.

            Charlie merely grinned impishly.  “Can’t be very different to every other community bathroom you’ve ever been in.”

            “If I ever meet this Dick Roman guy, I’m gonna stab him through the head with something…” Dean swore solemnly, to which Sam and Charlie only nodded to placate him. 

            The trio made their way back around to the mess hall, stopping only so Dean could change into something with more ventilation.  Charlie offered to make him a Mingo shirt but quickly snapped her lips shut from the look he gave her.  While he listened to them arguing, Sam glanced over to see if Samandriel and Kevin were still there, but even their side of the cabin was empty.  Bobby had obviously been there, though; the counselor’s bed was made, and his favorite cap was resting on the bedside stand. 

            “Bobby without a hat?” He shared a shocked look with his older brother.  “This is something I can’t wait to see.”

            “He’s probably wearing a Big Foot hat,” Charlie pointed out.

            “Aren’t they the purple ones?”  Dean grinned like a child with his favorite toy.  “Bobby in a _purple hat_?  Now _that_ I can’t wait to see.”

            Out of the cabin and on their way back to the mess hall, a familiar voice stopped them.  “What’s this?  Charlie, sneaking about with the Mingo Chief?  Now I _know_ you’re plotting against me.”

            Sam tried to ignore the blush creeping along his face as the three turned toward the Cherokee Chief, who had just exited the cabin next to his and Dean’s.  Damn it, still wearing those tight orange shorts, but now the sucker was noticeably missing from his curved mouth.  Charlie crossed her arms, poker face in place as he made his way over to them.  Beside him, Dean stiffened, and Sam didn’t need to look to know that he had narrowed his eyes. 

            “Gabriel,” Charlie greeted loftily, her chin raised.

            He mimicked her entirely, only he wore a small smirk.  “Charlie.  Another year, another competition.  I’m sure you heard how Michael and Luci landed themselves in Hell this summer.”

            “I’m a little surprised you didn’t join them.”

            “Oh, sweetums, I have ways of getting out of summer school.  But that means that this year will be less like Sunday dinner and more like actual fun.  From the way I see it, you’re my only _real_ competition.  There’s no way the Delawares are going to listen to Ruby and Meg long enough to even formulate a decent plan, and don’t get me started on the train wreck the Mingo tribe will be.” Gabriel’s mischievous eyes flickered to Dean, whose fingers had curled into tight fists the moment the Cherokee started talking.

            Charlie held up a hand to keep Dean silent, her thin gaze still on Gabriel.  “We always knew it was going to happen this way.  May the best chief win.”  She held out her hand, but he only stared.

            “Seriously?  A handshake?  Get your ass over here and gimme some sugar.”  Gabriel yanked her into his arms for a tight hug.  She laughed when he started peppering kisses all over her cheeks and tried to shove him away.

            “Is this a new tactic?  Smother your competition to death?”

“You caught me!  Is it working?”  
            “Not likely!”  She managed to squirm away from him, shaking her head.  “All joking aside, Gabe, you’re going down.”

            “I’d just like to see you try!” he taunted, still beaming as he pulled out another sucker. 

            “Yeah, well, it just so happens that this year, I have a secret weapon.”  She grinned when he raised an intrigued eyebrow.  Without further ado, she wrapped an arm around Sam’s and tried to tug him down to her level, which only ended with him awkwardly bent and Dean not bothering to hide his snickers.  “Sam Winchester!  With our brains combined, we’ll have no problem winning the competition!”

            Gabriel’s glittering eyes found Sam’s, his mouth curling instantly in interest.  He unwrapped the sucker and popped it into his mouth, the devious expression he wore letting Sam know that _yes, he knew exactly what he was doing to him_.  “Aw, Samsquatch, I was so hoping you’d be in my tribe.”

            “Samsquatch?” Dean raised an eyebrow angrily. 

            “You two know each other already?”  Charlie turned to look at Sam, completely confused.  “You even have a pet name?  I’ve been trying to get one of those for years!”

            “Hey now,” Gabriel interrupted, “I gave you a nickname the first year we met.  Not my fault you didn’t like it, sugar.”

            “Does Dean have a nickname too?!”

            “Does Brainless count?  How about Dickless?”

            “All right, that’s it!”  Dean shrugged away from Sam, who tried to stop him from launching himself at Gabriel. “One more snide comment out of you, and I’ll kick your ass all the way to next Tuesday!”

            “Guys, let’s leave the fighting to tribal circle, huh?”  Charlie attempted to interrupt, but neither boy paid her any mind.

            “I’m terrified!” Gabriel teased with a scoff and a roll of his eyes.  “You won’t be half the chief Michael would have been!”  
            “Yeah, we’ll see about that!  You won’t be grinning when my tribe wins that competition!”

            “Dean, calm down,” Sam urged calmly, stepping in between the two of them.  Charlie sighed, relieved, when Gabriel and Dean stopped glaring at each other long enough to face Sam.  “I think we all got off on the wrong foot.  You two are _chiefs_.  What example are you setting for your tribes if you fight like this?”

            Dean’s glare focused on Sam as he debated.  Sam didn’t back down, though, so Dean stepped back with a frustrated growl.  “Yeah, whatever.  Doesn’t mean I’m going to be nice to the guy.”

            Sam turned to Gabriel expectantly, waiting.  With a sigh and quirk of his lips, he held out his hand to Dean politely, some of the sass still evident on his face.  “Fine.  May the best chief win.”  Slowly, Dean accepted the handshake, his grip on Gabriel’s fingers as tight as it could be.  Gabe only grinned and shrugged, the mirth back in his eyes.  “Even though we all know that’s gonna be me.”  With a wink in Sam’s direction, he stepped around the Winchester brothers, humming merrily to himself.

            “Yeah, right, Gabe!  I can’t wait to see that ego deflate!”  Charlie argued happily, following him down to the road.  The brothers trailed behind her, Dean grumbling irritably and Sam trying not to stare at Gabriel’s ass. 

            They followed the rest of the campers to the road in front of the mess hall, where the Big Feet were calling for everyone to line up and get comfortable.  Sam recognized Ellen and Jody from Sioux Falls, both donning shades of purple.  Bobby was off to the side, wearing his purple Big Foot hat and apparently arguing with another man dressed in an immaculate black suit, his purple tie the only color apparent.  Any discomfort was cleverly masked behind a smirk and a quirked eyebrow, and he didn’t appear to be listening to Bobby at all. 

            In the middle of the steps sat a scruffy looking guy who looked like he’d been forced into the purple Big Foot shirt, his matching headband slightly skewed atop his messy hair.  He had his face in his hands, staring out at the campers like they might eat him if he moved too quickly.  Beside him stood a girl in another Big Foot headband who could have been the poor guy’s polar opposite for all Sam knew.  She didn’t appear to know what to do with all of her excess energy and opted for excitedly shifting back and forth, beaming enthusiastically at the gathering campers.

            “Charlie, who’re they?” Sam asked, but the Cherokee Chief shoved Charlie aside before she could answer him.  He bounced once, testing his height compared to Sam, then nodded with satisfaction, as though confirming something that made him grin.

            “Those are the Big Foot Chiefs.  They run the joint, so there’s two of them.  The guy who looks like he wants to blow his brains out is Chuck Shurley.  Right about now, his hangover’s probably unbearable.  The energizer bunny beside him is Becky Rosen, his on again, off again girlfriend.  Be careful around her; you look like her type,” Gabriel explained furtively, as though speaking too loud might alert Becky to their current location. 

            “He has a point about Becky.  She’s terrifying.”  Charlie pouted a little, her arms crossed.  “I’m stuck sharing a cabin with her.  She already thinks we’re best friends.”

            “Come on, Charlie, there’s a girl out there even you can’t handle?  I’d like to see that!” Dean teased lightly, his eyebrows raised.

            “In her dreams!” Charlie hissed with a shake of her head.  “You definitely want to steer clear of her.  I think even Chuck wants to steer clear of her, and he’s even a little interested in her.  A couple other ladies you want to avoid are Meg and Ruby.  Those two, over there.”  She nodded toward a blond and a brunette making their way up toward the crowd. The blonde, who sported a black headband over her long locks, wore what appeared to be an eternal bitch face, while her brunette companion smirked as though conspiring against literally everyone.  Dean’s face fell, and he shot Sam an accusatory glare.

            “That _Ruby_?  As in, that no good bitch who kept trying to get into your pants last year?” he growled.  Just when he thought this camp couldn’t get any worse, he had to learn that the Ruby everybody seemed to hate was the same one he absolutely despised.

            “Hey, don’t look at me like it’s my fault she’s here,” Sam defended, palms up.  “I’m just as unhappy to see her as you are.”

“She’s a devious, cowardly little slut,” Charlie hissed, glaring at her competition.  “She _worships_ Luci.  I heard she was pretty upset when he couldn’t make it this year.”  She wiggled her eyebrows at Gabriel, who merely crinkled up his nose in disgust and shook his head.  “I don’t care who wins this year, as long as it’s not her.”

            “Sugar, I can guarantee it won’t be her,” Gabriel confidently assured her with a wink at Sam that he couldn’t help but grin at.  “I’m sure even Chuckles here could do better than Bitch One and Bitch Two over there.  Better not disappoint me, Dean-o.” Gabe patted him encouragingly on the shoulder, while the older Winchester undoubtedly considered all of the places he could find in the camp to hide the smartass Cherokee’s body.

            Before Dean could say anything, a loud bugle sounded through the camp, effectively silencing the crowd of campers.  They didn’t quiet because of the volume, though; the four tribes had an easier time locating the offender playing the horrendous tune once everyone had hushed.  Not far from the two Big Foot chiefs stood a thin kid that reminded Sam of a German Shepherd for some reason.  He nervously lowered the bugle once all eyes were on him, furtively trying to duck into the mass of people.  Three campers, two boys and a girl, immediately stared circling the poor guy, each aiming a video camera to get every possible angle of the rogue bugle-player.  Charlie balanced on her toes, trying to catch a glance at his nametag, frowning when she couldn’t get a clear view.

            “Whose is he?” Dean whispered urgently, effortlessly lifting her up to get a better view.

            “Looks like his name’s Lucky?”  She shared a bemused glance with Sam before squinting at the chord around Lucky’s neck.  “It’s either red or orange, that’s for sure.  I think he’s a Cherokee?”

            Gabriel’s face fell.  “Please don’t say something like that, sweet cheeks.  We’re supposed to be friends!  Wish that on Ruby, if you have to.  Not on me!”

            Dean dropped Charlie back down onto her feet, grinning proudly.  “What was all that talk about definitely winning this year?”

            “Puh-lease.  It’s gonna take more than one weak tribe member to bring me down.”

            In the new silence, Becky had dragged Chuck to his feet and shoved him forward.  He opened his mouth and shut it a few times, turning once to search for help from his fellow chief.  Becky merely urged him forward, grinning like a maniac, and his shoulders sagged in defeat.  Running his hand over his face once, the camp leader cleared his throat and began in an anxious, shaky voice. The three campers turned their cameras on him, which only made him more nervous overall.

            “W-welcome!” he tried, a little overly enthusiastic.  Panic flooded his face instantly, and he grabbed his water bottle from the spot where he’d been sitting.  He quickly chugged half of it before he felt confident enough again, ignoring the murmur that drifted throughout the crowd of campers.  “Welcome to the…,” he sighed heavily, as though he’d rather not say, “…th-the Dick Roman Annual Summer Camp.”—Dean rolled his eyes and grumbled, “You’ve got to be kidding me!”— “I’m the Bigfoot Chief, Chuck Shurley.  My fellow chief here is—”

            “Becky Rosen!” she eagerly introduced, rushing forward to stand by his side.  “My, what a wonderful group of smiling faces we have this year!  We’re all eager to meet each and every one of you!”

            Chuck stared at her, horrified.  “…Yeah.  Eager.  Um, if you have any questions, comments, concerns, or emotional outbursts, you can always go to one of the other Big Feet for help.  That, uh, that would be Bobby, Ellen, Jody, Azazel, and Crowley.”  He pointed to each of them as he called their names, and Sam noticed each of the Big Feet wore something purple.

            “Crowley!” Dean hissed, narrowing his eyes at the man in question, the rich man who lived down the street from them.  The two brothers didn’t really know what went on in his house, and they tried their best not to find out.  For some reason, Crowley considered Dean and himself friends, which Dean denied every chance he got.  “I bet, it was his idea to make me the Mango Chief!  Nobody in their right mind would have made that decision.”  As if sensing the attention, Crowley turned his bored glance in their direction, a smirk curling up his devious mouth as he raised an eyebrow.  Grumbling grumpily, Dean put his focus back on their stumbling leader.

            “I-I’m sure you all know by now what tribes you’re in.  You’re either a Cherokee, Seneca, Delaware, or Mingo.  That’s it.”  Now that Chuck had found his stride, he was chatting much quicker, and Sam had to pay close attention to catch every rushed word.  “I’m going to direct you all to your tribal chiefs.  When I call your name, please raise your hand and wave to the rest of the camp.  Ruby, Chief of the Delawares!”

            Ruby raised her hand, curtly acknowledging the small clap of recognition she received.  Annoyed by the lack of attention, she dropped her hand and crossed her arms, her hip cocking moodily to one side.  “Oh, come on, is that the best you can do for the _winning chief_?”  Sam knew immediately that this was not going to end well for any of them.

            “As if!”  Gabriel didn’t hesitate to push his way through the sea of campers until he was within her range of sight.  She pursed her lips to hide the forming smirk and raised an eyebrow.  “I could beat you blindfolded, and that’d be taking it easy on you.”

            “The Cherokee Chief, Gabriel!”  Chuck anxiously went on, eyes widening at the most recent sign of conflict.  Beside him, Becky clapped wildly, as though personally invested in either the Cherokee tribe or the short-clad chief running the it. 

            “Oh, yeah, I’m terrified of Lucifer’s bratty little brother,” she sneered calmly, regarding him as one might if threatened by an annoying fungus or persistent fly.  He wasn’t worth her time or energy, and she wasted no time making that perfectly clear.  But her jaw clenched when she heard the louder applause that Gabe received, more than just a little irked at the absurdity that he might be a little more liked than she was. 

            “You should be afraid!” Gabriel promised, wagging his eyebrows conspiratorially.  “Who d’you think taught Luci all his ruses?  There’s a reason I have a reputation as _the Trickster_.”

            “Yeah, and he’s not the only one you should be afraid of in this camp!”  Charlie eagerly threw herself into the fray so as to make her presence known as suitable competition.  She strode forward, grinning at the gracious applause, and placed her hands boldly on her hips.  “You’ll have to step up your game if you think you can handle me, Ruby.”

            “Charlie, the Seneca Chief!” Chuck glanced at the other Big Feet and suggested something to Crowley, who merely waved the comment off and continued to watch with interest.  Shoulders slumping, Chuck rubbed his forehead, possibly pretending not to hear or see what was going on between the chiefs. 

            Ruby narrowed her eyes, tauntingly stepping closer to them.  “You have a big brain, Bradbury, so what?  I think it’s time somebody reminded you that you’re not the hero of this quest, and not only will you lose this competition, you won’t get the girl, either.”  She held her hand out to Meg for a victory slap, the two of them sharing smirks of triumph.

            “What the hell are you talking about?” Dean growled as he took position by Charlie, his eyes narrowed protectively.  He put an arm around her shoulder, tucking her up close, and she beamed up at her adoptive big brother as he came to her defense.  “Charlie here’s better with the chicks than I am.  She’ll have no problem gettin’ the girl in the end, whether she kicks your ass or not.  To be honest, I don’t bet kicking your ass is gonna be all that hard, even for me.”

            “Dean Winchester,” Ruby hissed, her arms crossing tightly, her voice raising sweetly.  “Never thought I’d see you here.  Lose a bet?”

            “Nah, my brother’s stuck in Hell, leaving me here to wipe the ground with your hideous face,” Dean replied pleasantly.

            “And lastly, the Chief of the Mingos, newcomer Dean!” Chuck stepped back and turned around, his head down, unable to watch the impending brawl.  Unlike her fellow chief, Becky watched the scene intently, eyes wide and focused with excitement on the four chiefs.  Even the rest of the Big Feet seemed to be taking bets, which Crowley appeared to be in charge of.

            “ _You_?  A _chief_?”  Ruby’s scoff melted into a sardonic laugh.  “I saw the headband, but I just didn’t want to believe it.  With the three of you as my competition, winning will be a cinch!”

            “Don’t know what gives you that idea,” Gabe argued, a deadly calm to his usually amicable and teasing voice.  “I’d put money on the Mingo Tribe this year before the Delawares, and Dean-o here doesn’t know the first thing about this camp!  Face it, sweet cheeks, any edge you had is in Hell with Lucifer.”

            “I guess we’ll just have to see about that!” Ruby noticed Sam then, and her sneer turned into a pleased grin.  She stepped around the three chiefs to stroll over to him, a predator cornering her prey.  Sam struggled to remember why he found her attractive in the first place.  “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy…”

            “Don’t call me that,” he apprehensively muttered, teeth grinding.

“Why the hostility, Sam?  We’ll be spending quite a bit of time together this summer.  It’ll be difficult to avoid me.”

            “He’ll manage.”  Gabe reappeared beside Sam, a sentinel with a smirk and a glint in his rich eyes that caused Ruby to slow in her approach.  Sam glanced at him, more than a little surprised to see anyone aside from Dean come to his defense, but Gabe didn’t give any signs of explaining himself.  He merely winked at Sam when the younger Winchester didn’t tell him to bug off, the tiny gesture causing Sam’s stomach to ungracefully flip.

            Ruby opened her mouth, her gaze accusing.  “Does the big-talking Cherokee have a crush on the new kid?”

            Gabriel shrugged, unaffected, neither confirming or denying.  “Don’t be jealous he likes me better, Ruby.  I’m sure you get that a lot.”

            Sam could only grin, enjoying the way Ruby deflated and turned away with an aggravated huff.  She stalked through the crowd of campers; the scrawny boy with the camera, whose nametag read _Brian_ , tried to get a close up shot of her infuriated expression, but she merely shoved him aside and carried on out of sight, Meg hot on her heels.

            Becky waited a minute, making sure nothing interesting was about to happen.  Once she was satisfied the action was done for the minute, she turned to Chuck and started poking at him. “Chuck!  Chuck, you have to start talking again!”

            “No, no, you can’t make me break them up.  Tell me when they’re done fighting,” he muttered weakly, shaking his head. 

            “They _are_ done!  Talk about the stick now!”  She beamed to the campers while she tugged on his shoulder.  After a minute, he got the message and turned back around, far paler than he had been originally.  He cleared his throat once, then again, and took a deep breath.

            “Th-the stick?” He swallowed, fidgeting, and stepped back up to the plate.  “Um, every night, each tribe will meet at Tribal Circle and compete for the Spirit Stick.”

            “Spirit stick?” Dean repeated quietly, raising his eyebrows at Sam.  “What the hell kind of camp is this?”

            “The Spirit Stick is a very important magical object!” Charlie chided hopelessly, already knowing her words were lost on the Winchester. 

            At this point, Becky took over.  Apparently, Chuck wasn’t talking fast enough for her.  “As camp moves forward, each tribe will have the chance to hold the Spirit Stick.  As it is passed back and for from tribe to tribe, we Big Feet hope it will help you in your pursuit to win the competition!  On the last day of camp, the chief of the winning tribe gets the Spirit Stick, eternal glory and bragging rights, and the picture of their tribe hung up in the mess hall!”

            “That’s it?  That’s all?” Dean grumbled quietly, glaring at Gabe and Charlie as thought they might be insane for getting so heated over something so frivolous.  “That’s all you get out of the competition?”

            “You heard the girl.”  Gabe shrugged solemnly, shrugging. He was listening, but most of his focus was directed still at Sam, appraising him thoughtfully while Sam pretended not to feel the intent gaze. “Eternal glory and bragging rights.  That’s worth a bundle in this camp.”

            “This is ridiculous!”  Dean rolled his eyes.  “That’s bullshit to go through all that trouble for nothing!”

            “Don’t be a little bitch, Dean,” Charlie scolded absently, much like his mother might if she were there.  He stared at her for a moment before shaking his head and returning his attention to Chuck, who had attempted to communicate again.

            “A-a-after dinner, you’ll all split into your tribal meetings.  Once there, you’ll spend your time getting to know your fellow tribe members.  You’ll, uh… you’ll be spending a great deal of time with them, so please try to get along.  Tonight’s mystery challenge will determine who gets the Spirit Stick for the first day.  Chiefs and Sags—get your tribes lined up for dinner!”

            “Do what?”  Dean glanced at Charlie, who was back on her toes and looking for her sag again.  Spotting a familiar wave of blonde hair, she took off, wiggling her way through bodies to get to her partner in crime.  “What am I supposed to do?”

            “Relax, Chuckles.  Go find your sag, he’ll know what to do.  See ya later, Samsquatch.”  With a wink, Gabe strolled off into the moving crowd toward the spot where Samandriel stood, waving excitedly and pointing to his cap with pride. 

            “Who’s my sag again?”  Dean turned to his brother, expecting him to have the answer.  Which, thankfully, he did.

            “Kevin, remember?  The guy in our bunk?”

            “Nervous guy?  Looks ready to drown himself?”

            A heavy sigh came from behind him.  “That would be me.”  The two brothers turned to look at Kevin, who, if at all possible, looked even worse than when they met him earlier.  He tentatively waved at Dean, grimacing politely.  “So you’re Mingo Chief, huh?  Well… Better thank Abaddon, I guess.  Follow me, I’ll show you what to do.”  He started up toward the left side of the road, across from where the Senecas had started assembling.  Dean caught sight of Charlie’s sag and grinned, waving at her.  Matching his enthusiasm, Jo nodded back before she went back to yelling at her campers, all of which, Dean noticed, happened to be female. 

            “Lucky bitch,” he mumbled, turning to Sam.  “Looks like you’re stuck with a bunch of chicks in your tribe.  Wanna switch?”

            “Not on your life,” Sam teased happily, but his joy diminished immediately when he saw Bobby striding toward the boys looking less than thrilled.  “Dean.”

            “Oh, shit,” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, trying to look apologetic, but the grin he couldn’t quite stifle ruined the effect.  Bobby stopped by the two boys, huffing and shaking his head.

            “Idjits!  You two knuckleheads better not get thrown outta camp over some stupid rivalry,” he scolded firmly, all the while Sam tried not to snicker about the purple cap with the large foot stitched into the front.  “No more stunts like that, okay?  Try to get along with your fellow campers?”

            “She started it!”

            “Yeah, did you hear the way she talked to Charlie?”

            “I couldn’t just stand there, Bobby!  I had to do something!”

            “Enough, enough.”  He sighed, a gruff smile barely visible from beneath his beard.  “Can’t stay mad at ya, not when y’all finally put Ruby in her place. Been waiting years for that to happen.  Get on up there with the rest of yer tribes, now.”

            “Yes, sir,” Sam immediately obeyed, scurrying toward the line of Senecas.  He was almost there when he heard Dean’s parting words to Bobby.

            “Nice hat, by the way.  Really brings out your feet.”

            “Don’t make me shoot you, boy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! So many characters stress me out. I hope I'm writing them well. Next chapter should be out soon!


	3. Day One (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the first day of camp ever end? Hopefully! The boys have dinner, argue a bit, and Dean tries to get some pie. Happy Pi Day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the date? Know what this means? Pi Day Update! You better be enjoying it with a tasty slice of pie. Sorry it's taken so long to update; I've been busy with writing other things that demanded my attention. Plus, I don't really feel like anybody's biting at this AU, you know? I'll try to get on a regular updating schedule, and once I get done with the first bloody day of camp, the build won't be so slow.

            Once Dean had them all lined up, he appraised the Mingo Tribe.  At the front of the line stood Kevin, his unenthusiastic sag who seemed to think Dean would lead the Mingos to their ultimate doom.  Under his breath, he kept repeating, _Better than Abaddon_ ¸ but the kid didn’t seem any closer to believing it.

            Behind him was Abaddon herself, whose arms were crossed in fury as violent and red as her hair.  She glared at Dean as though he might be the scum of the earth, the only thing standing between her and ultimate control of the tribe.  Never mind that the grumpy bitch would have to go through Kevin first; _Dean_ was the source of all her problems.  He raised his eyebrows and tried to look around her.

            One of the three annoying kids with the cameras was in his tribe, a tall blond named Michael.  Now this guy Dean thought he could deal with.  He was taller, broader, and better built than most of his tribe, so he knew who he could rely on if he ever needed any heavy lifting.  If he could get him to put the fucking camera down at any point.  Even in line for dinner, he was taping the rest of the tribes, sometimes panning over to observe the Mingos.  Dean shook his head and carried on with his scanning.

            The guy behind Michael stood tall and serious in his patriotic Mingo shirt, even taller than the camera kid.  Broad and strong with a soulful expression, he appeared to be listening intently to whatever Castiel was saying to him, taking each and every word as if the fate of the competition rested on it. _Gadreel_ , his nametag read, and for some reason, Dean felt like he couldn’t quite trust the guy.

            Then Castiel.  Of course Dean would get stuck with the guy who unnerved him more than should have been legal.  He couldn’t quite put his finger on what got to him about the guy, whether it was his brilliant blue eyes or the way he focused on Dean as though he might be the most important man in all of humanity’s existence.  The last thing kind of freaked him out a bit, but he didn’t know what he’d do if Cas stopped looking at him like that.

            The final member of Dean’s tribe was a young kid, much younger than the rest of them.  His nametag read _Ben_ , and Dean kinda liked him right off the bat.  They shared the same hairdo, the same bitch face.  He might be younger, but Dean didn’t doubt that he’d be more important than half of his tribe.  At least he didn’t carry around some stupid camera.  Off-handedly, Dean wondered how much the kid liked pie.

            Sam, on the other hand, was surrounded by girls.  Aside from Charlie and Jo, both of which he was glad to be in the same tribe as, he was stuck with that attractive Bela girl Balthazar had been so keen on earlier.  She looked more bored than anything, but she caught the eye of every man that glanced her way, a devious smirk on her face.  At this camp, Bela Talbot was the alpha, and she definitely knew it.  She smiled suggestively at the camera as one of the other Seneca, a blonde named Kate, panned around her to get every angle possible.

            One of his other tribe members was Anna, a pretty redhead with big, expressive eyes and a gentle smile.  She sported an immense amount of green, which complimented her hair perfectly, and Sam wondered if she was next in line to be sag or chief, however that worked.  She whispered quietly to a brunette with short hair beside her, who Sam thought looked friendly enough.  She stood up tall and straight, focused entirely on whatever Anna was telling.  Sam got the feeling that she was a very goal-oriented person.

            “Charlie, you can do this,” Jo was encouraging her chief, her arms crossed over her chest.  She wore that no-nonsense bitch face that Sam knew she inherited form her mother, but Charlie was either unaffected or too entirely preoccupied to fully appreciate it.

            “No, no, I can’t!  You and Sam are the only ones I can even look at!  They’re all too hot!”  Charlie swore nervously, looking everywhere except at her tribe.

            “Weren’t you the one who told me that there’s no such thing as too hot?”  Jo accused, at a loss with her chief. 

            “Obviously, I was wrong! Just look at them.”  Charlie indicated to her tribe, at a complete loss about what to do with them. 

            “Charlie, pull yourself together!  You’ve wanted to be chief for years, and we might actually have a shot, with the Novak boys stuck in Hell!”  Jo did her best to encourage the woman she hoped would lead the Senecas to victory, but she couldn’t help feeling a little slighted when Charlie called the rest of their tribe _hot_.  “Besides, we have Sam.  This guy’s one of the smartest people I know, _and_ he has Gabriel wrapped around his finger.”  She stood on her toes to wrap her arm around Sam’s broad shoulders and beamed up at him proudly, as though he’d filled every expectation she’d ever had for him.

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam argued with a shrug, more than a little sure that Gabe had _him_ wrapped around his finger instead of the other way around. 

            “I saw the way he was looking at you.  Don’t try to lie to me, boy.”  Jo raised a stern eyebrow, and Sam ducked his head.  Now she _really_ sounded like Ellen. “It’s up to you to get information from him.  We need to know what he’s planning to do for the competition this year.  As it stands, the Cherokees are our only competition. No offense, but Dean doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, and he doesn’t have the best crew, either.  The only ace the Delawares have is Balthazar, but he hates Ruby and Meg enough to turn on his tribe.  Gabriel is our only threat.”

            Sam glanced at the Cherokee chief, unable to see where _Gabriel_ might be a threat.  Now with that divine mouth of his rolling around his lollipop and those tight-fitting shorts.  Then again, that could all just be a distraction to his true intentions.  Gabriel glanced at him and smirked, and Sam had to wonder what the guy’s _true intentions_ actually were.

            Becky nudged Chuck forward again, and the nervous camp leader blanched the moment everyone looked at him.  He cleared his throat and tried to retreat, but Becky caught him by the shoulders and shoved him into the center of the road again.  Chuck chuckled nervously, embarrassed.

            “L-let’s all lower our h-heads and say, uh.  Say grace.”

            Dean deadpanned and shot Bobby an accusatory glare, but the grumpy mechanic ignored him and took off the Big Foot hat. What the hell kind of bible camp had Bobby dragged them to? With a roll of his eyes and an inaudible grumble, he lowered his head. After all, he was a chief now.  Had to set a good example for the rest of his tribe.  Sam lowered his head as well, more out of respect than necessity, like his brother. 

            Chuck stuttered through a common dinner prayer that either one of the Winchester boys could have said in their sleep. “B-bless us, O L-lord, and these your, uh… these….” Panicked, he looked around for assistance, but when nobody gave him any hints, he just carried on cluelessly. “… And we thank Him for this food… Uh, by His hand we all are fed, and, er… through Christ our Lord, amen!” He rushed through the end and backed away eagerly, taking cover behind Becky as though afraid the tribes might stone him.

            “Great job, Chuck!” Becky praised excitedly, as though she couldn’t see anything wrong with his prayer. A confused murmur spread through the tribes, but nobody spoke up intelligibly. “Now, to decide which tribe gets to eat first and gets to hold the Spirit Stick until Council Circle, I want to hear your best display of spirit! GO!”

            “Spirit? What the hell does she mean?” Dean asked, looking to his depressed sag.

            Gabriel didn’t miss a beat in leading his group in a chant. “C-H-E-R-O-K-E-E!  C-H-E-R-O-K-E-E!  C-H-E-R-O-K-E-E! CHEROKEE, CHEROKEE, CHEROKEE!”

            “S-S-S-E-N! E-E-E-C-A! S-E-N! E-C-A! SENECA, SENECA, SENECA!” Charlie’s tribe joined, their cheer attempting to rise above their rival’s. Sam listened as best he could and joined in once he had the hang of it.

            “D-E-L-A-W-A-R-E! D-E-L-A-W-A-R-E! D-E-L-A-W-A-R-E!” Ruby tried to engage her group, but two of her campers were singing some other chant about facing ghosts and Balthazar only offered a spirited yawn.

            “Dude, seriously, what’s going on?” Dean, frantic, demanded to the awestruck Kevin, who jumped to attention and turned to the Mingos. Dean watched carefully, determined to learn what the hell he was supposed to be doing.

            “Okay, guys, we have to help our chief out.  Follow my lead!” Kevin encouraged, sounding a little hopeless but optimistic. “M-M-M-I-N! G-G-G-O-S! M-I-N! G-O-S! MINGOS, MINGOS, MINGOS!”

            Sounded easy enough, if Dean could manage to remember how to spell the word and remember what his tribe was _actually called_. This chief business wasn’t going to be easy, especially if Castiel planned to take it upon himself to assist Dean the way he tried to help him with the chant.  A lesser man could get lost in eyes that blue.  Dean Winchester didn’t stand a chance.

            The cheers of the four tribes grew louder and louder until Sam could barely distinguish one name from the other.  Becky circled around, listening to the din of voices, her hand cupped over her ear.  She returned to Chuck, who had covered his ears in horror, and conferred with him for a moment.  Beaming, she skipped to the center of the group again and cut them all off.

            “The tribe showing the most spirit and will get the honor of holding the Spirit Stick first is… THE SENECAS!”

            “What?” Charlie gasped while the rest of her tribe cheered. She raised her chin confidently and bumped fists with Jo, her competitive grin aimed toward a sulking Gabriel. “I mean, of course! Don’t mess with the turtles, bitches!”

            Becky brought forth a walking stick taller than Charlie and held it out to her.  Charlie, amazed, reverently took the stick and held it high above her tribe.  The women and Sam clapped proudly and followed their great leader as she marched up the steps and towards the mess hall doors.  Gabriel shook his head at Sam on his way by, and Sam shrugged in response.  Sometimes, the best tribe wins, and Sam was _positive_ that tribe was his.

            “Those dining next will be the Cherokees, followed by the Mingos and the Delawares!” Becky announced cheerfully.

            “Hell yes!” Gabriel jogged up the steps after Sam, his tribe hot on his tail.  He sneered at the angry Delawares in passing, so loving to see Ruby and Meg so pissed.  Samandriel kept trying to talk to him, but he now had his eyes on Sam’s ass and couldn’t evenly divide his attention.  “What?”

            Samandriel patiently blinked at his cousin. “We’ll be the next to hold the Spirit Stick. I’m positive!  The Senecas only won marginally. With some encouragement to our tribe, I’m sure we will win the Stick tonight.”

            “See, that’s the kind of optimism I’m looking for,” Gabriel reassured, clapping the enthusiastic Cherokee Sag on the shoulder.  Samandriel beamed and blushed bashfully, his hand raising to absently fix his cap.  See, Gabriel knew Samandriel’s weakness: praise.  The kid was so eager to please that Gabriel could shut him up with a compliment like _that_.

            Now Gabriel was free to chat with tall, dark, and moose-y.  He leaned around Sam’s giant arm and smirked up at him, the stick from his long-finished lollipop still balanced in between his teeth.

            “Ya know, your tribe only won because of that booming sasquatch voice of yours,” he teased casually.

            “Is that so?” Sam raised an eyebrow at the Cherokee chief, doubtful. “Or my tribe is just better than yours.”

            “Ha! Please.  Your tribe is an estrogen-fueled nightmare.  Mark my words, you’ll be wishing you were on my tribe by the end of the week.”

            “I heard that, Gabriel!” Charlie accused, a few heads away from them.  She pointed at him menacingly before returning to the line.

            Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows at Sam.  “See what I mean? _Mark my words_ , Samoose.”

            Dinner for the night came in the form of either a hamburger or chicken sandwich, salad, French fries, assorted fruits, and a choice between cake or pie.  Sam filled up his tray, choosing a hearty helping of salad and a couple bananas.  He turned to look for a place to sit and wait for Dean, but Gabriel caught his elbow before he could skitter away and directed him to a table. He opened his mouth to politely decline, but the daring look Gabe gave him shut him right up.

            Dean wasn’t going to be happy about this.  Hopefully the prospect of pie and burgers would mollify him.

            “See, isn’t this nice?  Get away from all those women for a little bit?”

            “They’re not that bad,” Sam defended honorably.

            “Say that tonight after tribal meetings.”  Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows and popped a French fry into his mouth. 

            “Tribal meetings?”

            “Yeah, you’ll meet up in secret with your tribe and get ready whatever the chiefs want you to do for Council Circle.  After today, you’ll mostly be working on your competition entry.  I’d say don’t even bother since we’re going to win, but I’m all about some healthy rivalry when my brothers aren’t involved,” Gabriel explained, abandoning his dinner to first finish his cake.  He took the first bite and moaned in appreciation, his eyes rolling a little at the sugary assault to his taste buds. 

            Sam watched him, amused. “You really don’t like fighting with your family, do you?”

            “Hell no! If camp had worked out like it was supposed to this year, it would have been the Michael and Lucifer Show starring, you guessed it!  Those two will never stop arguing; they’d bring about the Apocalypse if they had the chance, just to prove who would win. Then they’d drag _me_ into it, and I’m sick of having my arms tugged back and forth. Nah, they can duke it out in Hell this summer.” Gabriel stuffed another bite of cake into his mouth happily.

            “Sounds rough.”

            “Yeah, but ya gotta love your family, right?” he replied sardonically, pouting at his now-empty plate of cake.  He went back to picking at his fries.  Sam slid his piece of cake over to the chief, whose honey eyes lit up gleefully. “Seriously?”

            Sam shrugged. “You’ll enjoy it more than I will.  I’ll stick to my _rabbit food_ , as Dean calls it.  I don’t really like eating that much sugar.”  Gabriel decided to make it his point to fix that.

            “I think I’m gonna like you, Samsquatch,” he contemplated as he dug into the cake offering.

            Sam sobered up for a minute. “Hey, why do you keep insist on hanging out with me?  It’s not like we’re in the same tribe or anything.”

            “Haven’t you ever heard of inter-tribal friendships?  We could be camp-crossed lovers or something?” Gabriel shrugged casually, but Sam’s eyes widened.

            “Lovers? Wait a—”

            Dean chose that moment to sit down, practically seething. He had a burger, sure, but Sam saw no slice of pie on his tray. Sam, deciding to tread carefully, decide not to bring up the absence of pie. He knew better than to pour salt on an open wound.

            Gabriel, unfortunately, did not and just had to say, “No dessert? Just why are you Winchesters too good for sugar?’

            Dean visibly twitched. “They were out of freakin’ pie, okay? I don’t wanna talk about it!” He bit into his burger and started to chew furiously. If at all possible, his glare would have burnt a hole through Gabriel, who merely whistled and returned to his fries.  Pie was serious to Dean; Sam could remember forgetting to some up last time he ran to the store with their dad, and he didn’t think his brother ever really forgave him for that.

            “Sorry, Dean,” he felt the need to say.  “I would’ve grabbed you a slice had I known.”

            “I said I don’t wanna talk about it,” Dean grumbled, mouth full of burger, and he stuffed a few fries into the mix, giving him the overall impression of a squirrel with a mouth full of nuts. “’ho th’ ‘ll ‘ns ‘t ‘f ‘ie? Wh’ th’ ‘ll ‘nda ‘mp ‘sh ‘s?” he tried to articulate, and Sam didn’t even bother trying to translate.  He knew it had something to do with the lack of pie, and that was the only knowledge he needed to shrug in response.

            “Chew with your mouth closed,” Gabriel helpfully recommended.  Dean responded by shoving a few more fries into his mouth and giving Gabriel a cheeky sneer.

            “Dean, I managed to get Samandriel to trade me his pie. Would you like to eat it?”  Castiel sat down in front of Dean, a plate bearing a slice of cherry pie in his hand.  Dean stared at him like he was an angel of the Lord, his eyes wide in amazement and devotion.  Gabriel thumped him on the back to snap him out of it, and Dean hastily swallowed the food he’d been wolfing down.

            “You, uh, you didn’t have to do that,” Dean stammered, but he had visibly started drooling at the sight of the pie.

            “You wanted pie,” Cas answered, his brow furrowed as if he couldn’t understand why Dean even questioned him on this. He held the plate out, wiggling it tantalizingly, and Dean audibly gulped. “Unless, of course, you no longer want it.  I’m sure Gabriel wouldn’t mind eating it…”

            “No, no, uh.  I’ll eat it. Thanks, man.” Dean snatched the plate before Gabe could even open his mouth.  Fork already in hand, Dean abandoned his half-consumed burger for tasty, pie goodness.

            Cas suppressed his smile at the joy on Dean’s face. “You’re welcome.”

            Gabriel raised an eyebrow at Sam, who had spent the entire ordeal chuckling.  “Maybe we should leave Dean-o and his pie alone for a little while.”

            “Why would we do that?” Cas asked, adorably confused, and Gabriel rolled his eyes.

            “We’ve been through this, baby bro.  Stop taking everything so literal.”  But Sam could tell from Gabe’s expression of fondness that Castiel was his favorite sibling.  So far, they didn’t argue or fight, save for a few words about the competition in which Cas swore that Dean would lead the Mingos to victory and Gabriel laughed hysterically for five minutes.

            “Seriously?” Dean glared at Gabriel, willing him to shut the hell up with the stone-cold look in his eyes.  Cas, too, had narrowed his eyes at his snickering brother in offense at the implication Cas’ statement had been incorrect.  Sam had to purse his lips to keep from smiling; something about Gabriel’s laugh was infectious.

            “We’ll see how confident you idiots are after your tribal meeting today! The Mingos aren’t gonna listen to you.  So you have Castiel’s favor; he just thinks your eyes are pretty,” Gabriel proclaimed with a mischievous wiggle of his eyebrows.

            “That’s inappropriate,” Cas muttered, a noticeable red tint in his cheeks.

            “Your sag quit trying the moment he heard Michael wouldn’t be here, Abaddon will sabotage you any chance she can get, and that Mike kid’s gonna get it all on video for ya!”

            “You’re forgetting Gadreel,” Castiel accused.  “He is a great asset to have and exceptionally intelligent.”

            “Ah, yeah, I didn’t think about Gad.  _Gadreel_ will give you the same look he’s giving to Samandriel right now.”  Gabriel indicated to the two in question, where Samandriel appeared to be in the middle of an enthusiastic proclamation (which must have involved his hat because he kept brightly pointing to it). Gadreel listened intently, but he wore an expression of concern and confusion, as though his cousin had either lost his mind or was full of shit.

            “What do you think Alfie’s saying to him?” Sam mused curiously.

            “Who knows with that kid.  Probably trying to get Gadreel to wear one of his stupid hats.”  Gabriel shrugged. “My point is, all of these people are _much_ smarter than you, Dean-o.  They already know they’ve lost.  What could you possibly say to them that might make a difference?”

            Dean opened his mouth, but no words left him.  Muttering, he returned to his food, quickly shoving the rest of his burger into his mouth.  Gabriel knew he won that round, and his resulting grin only pissed Dean off more.

            “Just you wait until tribal meetings,” Gabe warned again, and he’d been more than right.  He should have known, however, that the Cherokee tribal meeting wouldn’t go so well for _him_ either.

            In fact, once he had his whole tribe in front of him, Gabriel had no idea how the hell he was going to win this competition.  For starters, he had Samandriel as his sag, and while the kid had good intentions, he was entirely too enthusiastic about everything and came up with plans that, while good in theory, would never actually work out.  Gabe didn’t have the heart to tell him that his ideas sucked, so he told him he’d think about it.  Samandriel’s shy smile was worth the little white lie.

            Garth didn’t help, either.  He might as well have been Samandriel 2.0 for all the help he was.  He believed in friendship and kindness and positivity, and none of those would help Gabriel win this year.  And if he pulled out that stupid sock puppet one more time, Gabe would make sure Mr. Fizzles was literally _fizzling_ at Council Circle.

            Ash might have been a decent addition; the guy was certainly smart enough to contribute.  In fact, Ash was brilliant.  Gabriel just couldn’t get him to apply that brilliance basically _anywhere_.  He’d rather sit back, relax, and have fun than plan a winning project.  Gabriel would have to work on him.

            Then there was Lilith.  Her little girl body didn’t fool Gabe.  She was devious, demonic, and he had the bad feeling she was already planning a hostile takeover behind his back.  He could see it in the way she looked at him, smiling slyly and secretively like Luci had given her explicit instructions to make Gabe’s life a living hell.

            Not to mention Brian and Lucky.  Brian, one of those annoying camera kids (seriously, how many photography majors could end up at the same camp?) and Lucky, the timid, puppy-like bugle player from earlier.  Gabriel didn’t even want to _think_ about those two and what trouble they might mean for him.

            Gabriel sighed.  This was going to be harder than he anticipated.  Good thing his only real problem would be the Senecas… Or so he hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't remember if the Delawares chant ended with their name cheered three times as well or not! I was a Mingo and sat right beside the Delaware tribe, so you'd think I would remember, huh? Seriously, though. I could do that Mingo cheer in my sleep. 
> 
> Get on my ass if I don't update soon! Day One is almost over soon! I actually know what's going to happen in the next chapter (even have part of it written down, and it's a delicious bit between Sam and Gabe), so if you want to hear it, bug me. Take care, dears, and happy Pi Day once again!

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter will have more happening, I promise. Hope you enjoyed it! Don't be afraid to let me know. Badger me for updates if you must. Love you, dearies.


End file.
